The One Where Monica Needs More Convincing
by greenish orange
Summary: [Complete] Monica may have overshot her plan. CM.


**A/N: **This is really one of the most random stories I've written in a long time. If you're looking for an inspirational catalyst, I'd say it just came to me after watching _The One Where Nana Dies Twice. _This can take place anytime before London.

Just on a side note, references to gay people are not intended to be condescending or disrespectful. I have many friends who have made that life choice and, if anything, I love them even more for it.

-

"Chandler, honey, for the last time, we don't know what it is," Rachel said, closing _Vogue _with a touch of exasperation and regret. "It's just your _personality_. You wouldn't be Chandler without it."

Monica nodded and patted his knee reassuringly under the kitchen table. "Listen, Chandler, if it helps – _now _I know you're not gay."

"So, what, when you first meet me, I give off gay vibes or something?" he quipped sarcastically, glowering at his bouillabaisse. "Did those _dissipate_ with time? Did you learn to appreciate lovable Chandler with his lovable humor and his inconspicuously-gay-but-sometimes-straight personality?"

Monica sighed. "Chandler, c'mon, you're making this into a big deal when it's not, okay? Really. Besides, even if you _were_ gay we'd still love you."

"And," Rachel added excitedly, "we'd take you shopping with us!"

Monica silenced Rachel and rubbed circles on Chandler's back. "It's just . . . you're more . . . _cute_ than anything."

Chandler stared at Monica, flabbergasted. "Cute? _Cute?"_

Phoebe looked up from her seat, interested. "What's wrong with being cute?"

"Men aren't supposed to be _cute_!" Chandler cried emphatically, waving his hands desperately in an attempt to make them understand this important idea. "We're supposed to be burly and mustached and have iron-hard pecs."

"Where have you _been_?" asked Phoebe in confusion.

"Um, living?"

"_Oh_, I see," she said knowledgably, "you want to be a _Harlequin_ womanizer."

Chandler stared at her.

"Chandler, men can be cute," Monica reassured, breaking his concentration from Phoebe's meaningful smile. "There's nothing wrong with it. It doesn't make men less manly. It just . . . fits their personality better. Like you, for instance – you're not really the –"

"Sexy type," interrupted Rachel without hesitation. "Sorry, Chandler, but you're not sexy. You're cute."

"Yeah," Phoebe agreed, and then added, "you're like a little brother that follows us around and makes jokes and I _really_ wouldn't mind slapping once in a while."

Chandler stared at them dubiously. "Do you have a _book_ on this stuff or something?"

"Oh you," said Phoebe affectionately, ruffling his hair.

"But I'm still manly, right?" Chandler asked, ducking away from Phoebe's hand. Rachel picked up her magazine and buried her face behind it.

"Of _course_ you are, _silly_!" Phoebe cried. "You're manlier than I'll ever be! Yay, go you!"

Chandler's face fell slightly.

"Then, Joey, is he –"

"Definitely sexy," said Phoebe, nodding her head knowingly. "He's a fine piece of eye candy."

Chandler put his head in his hands. "I can't believe how pathetic I am. I'm cute, pseudo-gay, and having this conversation."

"See, this is what I don't get about men," Rachel said, gesturing to Chandler. "Why do they care if they're cute or sexy? Either way they're not bad to look at."

"Well," said Chandler thoughtfully, "considering I'm cute, I wouldn't be driving a tractor, now would I?"

All three girls looked incredulous.

"Because _cute_ guys don't drive tractors!" he emphasized. "I'm going to lose all girls I like and ever _will_ like to sexy, overall-wielding cowboys with good hair and hard pecs!"

"I'm still not following you," Monica said. She took his arm warmly. "You know what, never mind. Chandler, sweetheart, you don't need to drive a tractor to get girls to like you." She laid her palm on his chest and smiled kindly. "And you don't need hard pecs either."

He grinned back and touched her hand. "Really?"

"Aw, see, look at that," said Rachel, gesturing at the two of them. "That smile of yours could turn a straight guy gay."

Chandler frowned at her. "Do you think that makes me feel _better_ about my sexuality?"

"Isn't this where we started?" Phoebe asked.

Rachel took an impatient sip of ice water. "Chandler, if you keep making a fuss about being gay –" She saw his expression, rolled her eyes, and reiterated, "I mean, making a fuss about being straight and having people _think you're gay – _I'm going to change my opinion entirely. _No one_ whines this much about stupid mistakes except for Ross and seriously, if you're sinking to _that_ level, we really don't have much to discuss . . ."

"You know, Rachel's right, Chandler," said Phoebe. "I'm starting to think maybe you _are _gay posing as a straight man to leak news to your secret society –"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_! I am _not_ gay!" Chandler cried angrily.

Phoebe considered that for a moment. "Now that I think about it, you're right, you totally couldn't pull off a tractor."

"You know what? I'll _prove_ to you that I'm not gay," Chandler said confidently. "Ask me anything. I've got it covered."

"Okay . . ." said Phoebe. "First of all, explain the jewelry box."

Monica hid her laughter in a napkin and Rachel swiveled around on her place on the couch. "Ex-_cuse _me?" she asked. "Chandler? A jewelry box? _Really_?"

He looked highly affronted. "Well, yeah, but – _but_, it could hold condoms. And, it _does_! Along with my . . . _tools_ –"

"What about the makeup?"

"For the last time, it was free!"

"So the pink shower cap? That was free too?"

"Okay, in my defense, that was originally _white_! Joey put it in the wash with a red sweater, and . . . by the time he realized shower caps didn't go in the wash –"

"The chapstick?"

"_That_ I can explain –"

"The shampoo and conditioner you steal from Monica?"

"Hey, it's really good stuff!"

"What? You steal my hair products?" Monica cried. "No wonder your hair is so soft!"

Phoebe stared at Monica impatiently. "Okay, that's off-track, but whatever. Anyway, here's a doozy – explain your purse."

Chandler held up his hands defensively. "I don't own a purse!"

Monica and Rachel looked at Phoebe to confirm.

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, he's right, he doesn't. But it _was_ fun, wasn't it?"

Rachel looked like she was trying to suppress a smirk. "But you own all those other things?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

Monica snorted. Chandler watched her, insulted. "It's not _that_ weird, is it?"

"Honey, let me put it this way," said Rachel; "if you were _anyone_ else, there wouldn't be a doubt in my mind."

He glanced again at Monica, then back at Rachel. "If I were _anyone else_? What's that supposed to mean?"

No one answered.

Chandler stood up and paced in front of them. "Okay, let's make this simple – when you first met me, what did I _do_ to make it _seem_ like I was gay?"

"Well, you did that," said Phoebe.

"What?"

"That!"

"_What?"_

"That weird expression."

"This?"

"No, that other one. No – no – no – yes, that one."

"This one? Phoebs, this is my _face_."

"Oh. Right."

Chandler paused. "Okay, anyone else want dry-beat my ego?"

"Chandler –" Monica started.

"No, it's cool," he said, trying to sound offhand. "It's cool. It's – _manifested_ into a good thing. I'll prove to you that I can be every bit as manly as . . . manly people."

Rachel and Monica looked at each other in concern. "You don't have to prove anything," said Monica.

"Oh yeah? Well, if I don't, I'll have to live with you people," he gestured at the three girls, "thinking in the back of your minds, 'He always seemed a bit different . . . we don't know _why_ . . . I guess it's just _Chandler_ . . .' Pretty soon, Chandler and gay will be synonymous. It'll be like, 'So, you have a Chandler in your family? How's the missus holding up?'"

"Chandler –"

"No, no, _really_, it's _cool_, you guys. It's _rad_, it's _awesome_, it's _hunky-dory – _there's nothing _wrong_. I'm completely and utterly fine; I have my friends, my social security, and my health, at least until Catholicism drives a pitchfork through my heart. Nothing is missing! Wait . . . wait . . . no . . . no, that's not _quite _true . . . my _dignity_ is floundering about in my childhood where I left it."

"Chandler," said Monica quietly. "_I_ know you're not gay."

"Thanks, Mon, but I _really_ don't need your pity."

Rachel looked at Phoebe helplessly, who looked at Monica exasperatedly, who suddenly grabbed Chandler's collar, yanked him forward, and kissed him squarely on the lips.

Phoebe and Rachel exchanged bemused looks.

When they parted, Chandler stared at her wide-eyed. "Whoa, whoa, what was that?"

"You're convincing me that you're not gay," she stated simply, as if he was commenting on something mundane.

"Interesting," he said, recovering from his shock. He grinned at her. "Did I convince you?"

"You know, on the other hand, I may need some more persuasion," murmured Monica, threading her fingers through his hair and drawing him closer.

"Mmmmkay," Chandler muttered.

Phoebe looked at Rachel, who stared back. "Um, am I missing something?"

"Chandler and Monica are making out," commented Rachel, staring at them in bewilderment as the kiss began to get more heated. "Chandler and Monica are making out . . . Wait. Ewwww! Ewww! Eww! Oh my God, _Chandler and Monica are making out_!"

Rachel and Phoebe watched in fascinated horror as Chandler slid his hands up Monica's shirt and she moaned and pressed herself up against him.

"He's sucking her face off!" Phoebe shrieked.

"She's sucking _his_ face off!" Rachel yelled.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Rachel said, gripping her face with her hands. "What do we do, what do we do?"

"Well, you could get off the couch, for starters," Phoebe suggested, as Monica and Chandler stumbled closer, still kissing uncontrollably. Rachel shot off the couch like a bullet.

"What are they, animals?"

"Well, one thing's for certain, Chandler is _not_ gay."

"_So_ not the time, Phoebs!"

"Okay, sorry."

"Let's just, run or something!"

"But can we really leave them like this?" Phoebe asked, looking at them in concern. "Without a condom?"

Rachel looked like she was torn between running out the door and considering this carefully. "Fine, fine, we'll ask Joey or something! Just hurry, hurry, _please_!"

"_Or_," said Phoebe, "we can just plunder Chandler's jewelry box."

Rachel gestured at the door wildly. Phoebe ventured closer to Monica and Chandler and said loudly, "We'll be right back, guys. Don't have sex until we bring you condoms. _Con_-doms." She turned to Rachel, looking amused. "I feel like I'm talking to ESL kids."

"Let's just _go!"_

And Monica and Chandler carried on, oblivious.


End file.
